Chapter Ten
The pair returned to the flat (only a few blocks away, mind you) with the snow attacking them the last block home. When they reached the sanctuary of the entrance of 221B, Emilia clutched at her shoulder as the bouncing had pulled at her injury. She was giggling though, amused that they hadn't missed the snow. And it completely stuck to them, soaking them entirely.
Sherlock started up the stairs and rid himself of his coat, then hung in over the heater. His scarf joined it, then he sighed as he helped Emilia with her accessories. Sherlock pursed his lips when he saw Emilia's shoulder all bandaged up, red now showing.
"Your shoulder needs to be dressed again."
Emilia looked down at it and saw the blood trying to seep through. "John usually does it. I don't know when he'll be back, exactly."
"Go sit, I'll do it. Don't start to expect this hospitality from me on a regular basis."
"Now, why in the world would I ever do such a thing?" Emilia mocked him and pulled a chair from the kitchen table. She settled in it and watched Sherlock gather the supplies.
"I'm probably not going to be as temperate as he," Sherlock said while Emilia raised the strap of her sling over her head.
"That goes without saying, Sherlock." Emilia then proceeded to free her upper body from the dress she was wearing. She slid the straps down her arms and unzipped the back, freeing her shoulder from any obstructions.
Sherlock turned back to her with medical supplies in hand and paused for a moment, seeing Emilia's bare back like so. He noticed she was still covered up on her front though, so he resumed his pace to her.
Emilia started to peel off the medical tape from the front of the wound. Sherlock took a cloth and dropped peroxide onto it, waiting for her to finish moving the gauze. He pressed the cloth against the wound, and through the silence they heard the reaction of bubbles cleaning the wound. With a small wince, Emilia laughed.
"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked as he glanced between her face and her shoulder. He started patting the wound with the cloth.
"When you said you weren't going to be so soft, I honestly expected more than this. You're already more gentle than John."
"I don't want to hurt you," Sherlock said before he even really thought about it.
Emilia's face tinted pink as Sherlock's face froze. He was confused, as he found his mouth had betrayed his will to keep silent.
"That's good, then," Emilia answered.
Sherlock pressed onto her wound again, the bubbling sound gone. He dried the excess liquid from her shoulder and placed a new bandage over the hole securely. The replacing and cleaning of the bandage on the back was just as the first one was.
Emilia slid her straps of her dress back on, and Sherlock zipped it up for her without her even asking. Now he wanted to scold his hands. His brain-to-anything filter was slipping. Because of her.
Once Emilia had her sling back on, John came home.
"Emilia, I owe you so much, so much I could probably tell you I love you."
"I guess everything went well?" Emilia said with a laugh.
Sherlock listened in with both ears as he tried to keep his hands busy with other work.
"Sariah is a beautiful, amazing girl. She's so talented, and smart, funny, so nice, and—"
"So when's the wedding?" Sherlock joked with a flat tone.
"I don't want to get too excited," John replied. "I don't want to push her too far."
"He wasn't serious, John," Emilia put her hand on John's shoulder, trying to calm him. He'd been stepping around ever since he came through the door. He even still had his coat on.
"Well—yeah, I mean, she's just—and she likes me! She really does. She even follows my blog. She even shared her blog with me. I'm so happy right now I could burst!"
"Mrs. Hudson just cleaned so could you postpone the bursting activity?" Sherlock threw in again, looking through a microscope.
Emilia frowned at the detective. If he wanted to be part of the conversation, he could have been a civilized person about it. In other words, there was no slide in the microscope for the man to even be looking at.
"Oh, my phone is ringing. I got to get that," John fetched his phone from his pocket and retreated to his room.
Emilia joined Sherlock's side. She grabbed a sample slide from the box near him and stuck it under the scope.
"Figured you might have wanted that."
Sherlock didn't move his head from the lenses, but rolled his eyes to look at her. She smiled ever so cockily, then sat on the couch and picked up her book she had been reading for a while.
Sherlock smirked as he looked at the slide now, deciding to conduct an experiment with what he saw.
Night arrived, the trio slept, and morning arrived.
Emilia woke up with a start. Her heart was pounding, aching even, and her body was covered in sweat. She threw the blankets off of her and swung her legs off the bed and to the floor. The pads of her feet connected with the cold, cold, wooden floor, and she wasted no time in checking on her friends. She could hear John snoring in the living room, so she went straight to Sherlock's room.
The tall man was surely asleep in his bed, or at least was, until his door swung open so loudly.
"What in the world is your problem?"
"Are you okay?" Emilia asked, almost seeming out of breath.
Sherlock rubbed his eyes and made a few funny faces before looking at her with squinted eyes.
"I felt like something was wrong, I wanted to make sure you were alright…"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Except for the fact you woke me up. What time is it?"
Emilia looked around for a clock, and they both looked at it at the same time. Not even six A.M.
"Go back to bed, Emilia. I'm actually sleeping for once."
"Can I stay in here?"
Sherlock had only just laid himself back down and was in the process of covering himself with his many blankets. "What for?"
"To be with you," she responded quickly.
"You couldn't handle sleeping in a bed with your shoulder with someone else. Go back to John's room."
"But—"
"You're only lonely," Sherlock said rolling over and pulling his blanket back over him. "Everyone gets lonely and we just get used to it."
"Are you lonely then? If that's the way you want to put it."
"Go. Back. To. Bed."
Emilia watched the man for an instant, then left. When the click sounded from the doorknob, Sherlock rolled over to look at where she stood. He had half expected Emilia to defy him and join him. The other half hoped.
In John's room, Emilia sat on the edge of the bed staring at her hands in her lap. She glanced at the sling sitting on the bedside table, then tried to rotate her bad shoulder. Okay, that was a bad idea. Emilia bit her lip as she babied her injury a little.
When Emilia was seven, she had a pet dove in a birdcage hanging high in her bedroom. The dove made beautiful cooing noises during the day, and slept peacefully when the moon was hanging in the sky. Emilia loved the creature so much, she made sure to take extra care of it. She fed it when it ran out of food, gave it water everyday, and even let it out to hop around her room sometimes. Her parents were happy with the responsibility she showed, and decided she was ready for a different pet. They got her a kitten then.
Needless to say, when Emilia was playing with her dove, the cat had attacked and killed the beautiful bird she had for so long. Emilia's mother swore she would cry, but instead took to silence, and didn't want the cat anymore.
When Emilia's parents were murdered, everyone swore she would cry, but she didn't. She took to silence.
So why in the world would she cry over a man she hasn't even had, or even lost yet? She wiped her eyes and laid down carefully, and tried to fall asleep again.
Outside the door, Sherlock pursed his lips. He trotted to the sitting room quietly, and prodded at John's shoulder.
"What, what, what?" John jumped up and looked around the dark room with alert.
"She's crying again, why does she do that?"
"What? Who? Is she okay?"
"She's not in physical pain, it appears. Why does she cry when she's not in pain?"
John rubbed his eyes, still trying to figure out what was happening. "Sherlock, really? She told me she told you."
"Told me what?"
John stared at his flat mate with complete annoyance. "The woman told you she loved you, and you just stood there. You know, I was worried she would be the one hurting you."
"Is this why you went to the therapist? To talk about me?"
"How did you even know about that?"
"I noticed how you were feeling when you came home. Human's usually feel like that when they share burdens with a trusted human. You hadn't met Sariah yet, so it must have been the only other person you trust, either your sister or your therapist. You just confirmed it was the therapist."
"If you can gather that much about me, then why don't you know so much about her yet?"
"She's a woman. I don't like them."
John blinked repeatedly as he digested the information. "Are you," John retracted his head and confusion took over his face. "Are you trying to tell me you are uhm," he cleared his throat, "not... straight, then?"
"As I've told you before, I consider myself married to my work, John, and-"
"You don't have to marry Emilia! Just at least acknowledge her. You can't just let her sit there and not know what's going on."
"Emilia?"
"Yes? Who is this?"
"Can I tell you a story?"
"I'm not too fond of stories..."
"Once upon a time, there was a princess. She lived in a very, very high tower. She couldn't get out, and no one could get in. You know what her name was?"
"Rapunzel."
"Not in this story! This time, she's named Emi. Short for Emilia. So, one day, while in her tower, a knight came to visit. He called to her, let me in! And so, she did. The two silly creatures fell in love. What happens next?"
"Moriarty, is this you?"
"The knight had an enemy that didn't like that the knight was happy. So he took away the princess, and, well, lets make it PG, shall we? She's dead."
Emilia looked at the door connecting John's room to the rest of the flat from the bed. She clutched the phone tightly in her hand. "Are you going to kill me?"
"That would fit the fairy tale, wouldn't it? Oh, I don't think this is going to work very well, I've already spoiled the ending."
"Tell me what you want!" Emilia cried, jumping to her feet.
"Emilia, are you okay in there?" John knocked on the door.
She panicked and gave a look back to the door. Emilia hesitated before speaking. "I'm okay, John! Sorry!"
"Until the end, Princess."
The line went dead. John entered the room with his eyes covered.
"Are you decent?"
"Y-yes…"
"It's bandage time."
Emilia watched John as he held up the bandages and cleaning solution. Behind him, in the distance, Sherlock watched with his scarf in his hands, coat branded on his body.
"Is he leaving?"
"He's researching a client's information. Here, I brought a chair," John spun the chair through the door on its leg and into the room.
Emilia watched Sherlock's stone cold gaze as the door slowly drifted closed. He nodded at her, then fled soundlessly as the door closed with a click.
The weeks then passed, Emilia hadn't spoken to John or Sherlock about the mysterious call. Her healing went by without complications, and eventually the sling was shed. The mobility came back slowly but she was still limited. Not once in that time had she told Sherlock anything about her feelings, or made any motions of the like. Christmas was nearing, and Sariah was introduced to Sherlock. He managed to not insult her too much, having been warned by glances and glares at him from his flat mates.
"Sariah was telling me she won a contest the other day at the coffee shop. She got tickets to a play performance at the theater in a few days."
"That sounds lovely, what's it called?" Emilia smiled from behind her tea cup at the couple across the table.
"Rapunzel. You know, the old fairy tale of the girl with the very long hair in the tower?"
Emilia bit her tea cup as it was between her lips. "An old favorite."
"John said he's not really a fan, so I was wondering if you would go with me instead. I owe you a night out in return for all the wonderful times John has introduced me to, all because I finally agreed to go on a blind date."
Emilia looked at the expectant couple. To be honest, she couldn't turn her down. She'd been turning down Sariah's attempts to hang out with her out of her fear of being attacked, and that the call with Moriarty scared her almost to death.
"Rapunzel. Of all things…"
"Is that an old favorite?" John inquired curiously.
"Oh, Emilia loved old fairytales back when we first met. I think that's what drawn me to her, it's one of my old favorite pastimes, fairytales. I always dreamed of being a princess."
"Well, I hope I am able to treat you like such a princess!"
John and Sariah began to baby talk at each other and adore each other in odd ways at the kitchen table. Emilia pursed her lips and nibbled on the rim of the tea cup. Her eyes caught hold of Sherlock's again, and the gaze was the same as the last time she saw him leaving weeks ago. Now able to see it up close, it was a little more defined.
When they shared Chinese a while ago, Sherlock's eyes had melted with compassion.
And here it was again.
Emilia leaned back in the chair and watched him, tuning out the couple's mushy exclamations. Sherlock was typing away on his laptop, recording notes of some sort probably. When Emilia set her cup down, Sherlock paused his typing and relaxed in his chair. His hands folded in his lap, but not once had he broken away from her eyes.
"Would you feel safer if the boys went?" Sariah asked.
Emilia was jolted from her locked stare and instantly agreed. "I am supposed to be watched over, anyway, and those two can keep a better eye on us."
"Good idea, I keep forgetting that's our job right now," John chuckled and placed a hand on Sariah's thigh.
They continued to be wrapped up in each other's presence and Emilia looked back to Sherlock. He was now by the door, coat donned and holding up her own. So he wanted to go for a walk? Sounds like a good idea.
Emilia seems like a real needy person, but in reality we all can be quite needy. She's going to get better, injuries make us all lazy and our defenses go down. We become needy idiotic creatures.